


Thank You, Twitter

by Dracothelizard



Category: Horrible Histories RPF
Genre: Awkward Dates, Comedy, M/M, Twitter Flirting, terrible flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: Written for the HHanon kinkmeme back in 2011.Prompt: [RPF] Larry/Benbecause sometimes ben tweets things like this https://twitter.com/benwillbond/status/11382480711974912





	Thank You, Twitter

**Author's Note:**

> None of this ever happened, obviously.
> 
> Well, except for the tweet.

"You don't think that's a bit much, do you?" Mat asked, as Ben showed him his tweet while they were supposed to be having lunch. "Calling him handsome, the capslock..."   
  
"Well, nothing else is working, is it?" Ben replied, more than a little annoyed.   
  
Mat nodded. "True. I'm still not sure if Twitter is the best way to flirt with him, though."  
  
"He _loves_ Twitter," Ben said, and looked at his phone. "He's guaranteed to see it."   
  
"What're we looking at?" Larry asked, suddenly walking up behind them. He looked at Mat and Ben expectantly.  
  
Ben quickly plastered a smile on his face. "Larry! I didn't hear you!"  
  
Mat smiled as well. "It was just a silly YouTube video. Of a cat. Doing a thing. Funnily." He laughed uncomfortably.   
  
Ben nudged Mat to be quiet. They didn't need Larry to be asking after that clip right now. "So, Larry, how've you been?" Which was a daft question, as they'd been filming a sketch ten minutes ago.  
  
"Fine," Larry replied, looking a little puzzled at the both of them as he took a bite off his sandwich.   
  
"So, I'll just be... over there, then," Mat said, after Ben gave him a significant look. He gave Larry a little wave. "And have a coffee."   
  
"You think something's wrong with him?" Larry asked, as he watched Mat leave. "I think something's wrong with him."  
  
"He's fine," Ben assured him. Finally, alone at last, but as usual, his nerves started to take over. "So, fun sketch we're doing." Which was a stupid thing to say. Stupid. This was why he preferred flirting over Twitter. At least he could think about what he was saying.  
  
Larry looked a little unsure. "You think?" he asked. "I mean, yeah, it's funny, but I don't know, I still feel like something's not entirely right with it. I just don't know what."   
  
Typical writer's doubt. "It's fine," Ben assured him swiftly, smiling. "It's funny, it's made everyone laugh, and even if there's something lacking from your end, we'll make it up on our end in the performance."   
  
"If you say so," Larry muttered, taking another bite from his sandwich.  
  
Now was the time. "So, Larry, I was wondering, are you busy tonight?" Ben asked, and he shifted nervously on his feet.   
  
"No, not really," he replied. "Why?"  
  
"Oh, er, nothing, really, but I was, er, thinking that, maybe, possibly." Why couldn't he talk like a normal person when Larry looked at him expectantly? "Maybe we could do, you know, a thing." Oh, right, because that made sense. Ben was going to have a stern talk with whatever part of his brain was responsible for talking later. Once Larry had left.  
  
Larry stared at him for a moment, chewing on his sandwich before swallowing. "You mean write something?" he asked. "Sure. You can come over tonight. Or I'll come to yours?"   
  
Ben nodded, glad Larry had made some sense out of it. "Yes," he said.  
  
"So?" Larry asked, looking at him. "Yours or mine?"  
  
Right. "Mine." Home advantage, and all that. "At eight, or something?"  
  
"Sure thing," Larry replied, then looked back at the buffet table. "I'll just grab another sandwich. You want anything?"  
  
"No, I'm fine," Ben replied, his nerves kicking up another notch as Larry left. Because now he was stuck having to come up with a sketch idea before that evening. Shit.

***

He wasn't worried. Just, perhaps, a little bit anxious. It was daft to be worried, because it wasn't like Larry hadn't been over before, or like they hadn't written together earlier.   
  
"Thanks for coming," Ben said, as he let Larry, who was carrying a laptop bag, in. "You didn't need to bring your own."  
  
"I prefer it," Larry replied with a shrug, following Ben to the living room. "And it's no trouble."   
  
As Larry sat down on the sofa, Ben realised he should probably get them something to drink, so he went into the kitchen. "What can I get you?" he called out. "Coffee? Tea?" He opened his fridge. "Beer? Lemonade, maybe?" And that was just a ridiculous offer.   
  
"Actually, lemonade sounds good. And then tea after?" Larry replied.  
  
Ben stared at the lemonade bottle for a moment before getting it out. "Lemonade and tea, coming up!"  
  
***  
  
After the brief small talk, Larry opened his laptop. "Right, what did you have in mind?"   
  
"Another one that runs through the whole series, like Historical Masterchef?" he suggested. "I mean, that worked. Though obviously not Masterchef again."  
  
Larry was scrolling through his files. "Hmm, yes, and I've been thinking about The Apprentice. That should definitely run through the series."  
  
"You can't do that as a one-off, no," Ben agreed, shifting a little closer to Larry under the pretence of looking at the computer screen. "What were your ideas?" And it was excellent that they were off his ideas, and onto Larry's. Much easier that way.  
  
"Apart from 'have them do ridiculous assignments that have nothing to do with their eventual job', not much. I'm still watching the actual show to get ideas," Larry said, and sighed.  
  
Ben smiled. "You poor thing," he said, and gave Larry a comforting pat on the back, letting his hand rest there. "All in the name of research, right?"   
  
"I know, we suffer for our art," Larry replied, smiling a little. "Why can't we have people who provide us with facts about The Apprentice rather than just historical ones?"   
  
"Because you secretly quite enjoy The Apprentice?" Ben suggested. He knew Larry. Despite the complaints, he knew Larry liked making fun of shows he didn't really like. "And mocking it?"  
  
Larry hung his head in defeat. "Yeah." He sighed, then sat up again. "Right. Ideas?" He glanced at Ben.  
  
It was a bit hard to think with Larry looking at him like that, and sitting so close, but he managed something. "Rulers," he said. "Some sort of rulers, right?"   
  
Larry scrolled through his Twitter as he considered this. "Yeah, but it can't be kings or queens, can it?" He smiled as he read Ben's tweet from earlier that day. "Handsome devil, Ben?" He gave Ben a sideways glance, and smirked.  
  
Ben immediately pulled his hand back, and let out a nervous laugh. "Well, you know, I, well.”  
  
"Well, what?" Larry asked, raising an eyebrow and still looking amused. "My sheer handsomeness makes you speechless?" He gave Ben a mock-sultry look.  
  
Speechlessness was one way of putting it, especially now. "No," he said, trying to think of something. "And I was talking about Jim, anyway." Jim and his shoulder-biting. That hadn't inspired any jealousy _at all_ , no matter how ridiculous. And the shoulder-biting, well, that was clearly a brilliant idea Ben wanted to try for himself. Preferably without a suit in the way.  
  
Larry sniggered. "Yes, our Jim is definitely a handsome beast. Drives all the ladies wild with desire."   
  
"Hmm," Ben said, now pondering if perhaps there was something to be said for a suit, as it had looked good on Larry.   
  
Larry nudged him. "What're you thinking?"  
  
He was startled out of his thoughts. "What? Oh, nothing."   
  
"Still thinking about Jim, I suppose." Larry let out a dramatic sigh. "However can we mere mortals compete with him." He leaned forward again. "Right, we need rulers who pick their own successors, not the ones where family just inherits the title..."   
  
No, no, they had to get back to the previous subject. That was far better for flirting than brainstorming. "I wasn't thinking about Jim."  
  
"Hmm? No, of course you weren't," Larry replied, opening a word document. "Anyway, back to business. Rulers who picked their own successors, go."  
  
Ben sighed. The moment had passed, and he had been an idiot.

***

"I take it from your grumpy expression that things didn't go well last night," Simon told him, as he passed Ben the milk for his coffee.  
  
Ben stared into his drink for a moment, before looking at Simon, who calmly sipped his tea. "How - who - what?" he spluttered.   
  
Simon smiled a little. "Mat's chatty when you give him coffee. Besides, you haven't exactly been subtle, have you?"  
  
He glanced over at Mat, currently talking to Jim. Talking to Jim was fine, and Larry hadn't arrived yet. Good. "What do you know?" He needed to know just how much he was going to kill Mat over this.  
  
"You're after Larry, and had a date with him last night," Simon told him. "And something to do with Twitter."  
  
Ben leaned closer to Simon, after glancing around to see if no one else could overhear. "It wasn't a date, and it has nothing - well, a little bit - to do with Twitter."  
  
Simon sipped his tea again. "You don't think it'd go faster if you _did_ ask him on a date?"  
  
Ben just glared at him.  
  
"I'm only saying," Simon continued. "He's not going to realise you're after him otherwise."   
  
"I'm flirting with him," Ben replied, a little annoyed. "He's going to realise. Besides, you said I wasn't exactly subtle."   
  
Simon raised an eyebrow at him. "Subtle to you or me, no. Subtle to Larry... well, that's a different matter. But if you know what you're doing..." He walked away, to Jim and Mat.   
  
"I completely know what I'm doing!" Ben shouted after him. He took a sip from his coffee. Simon had noticed, and Ben wasn't even flirting with him. That meant Larry was definitely going to notice.

***

Simon's words lingered, though. Perhaps - perhaps he _was_ being a bit too subtle. Just a tad. Maybe Larry hadn't entirely noticed yet. It was possible, certainly.   
  
Which meant he needed some advice.  
  
"And you're asking us?" Martha asked, glancing at Simon.   
  
It didn't exactly help that they were dressed as Georgians for the next sketch they were filming. Ben certainly couldn't take them seriously in those wigs, and he wondered how Martha's even stayed on. "Well, it's just that - look, it was your idea," he said, turning to Simon. "You said I had to be less subtle!"  
  
"Did you?" Martha raised an eyebrow.  
  
Simon shrugged at Martha. "Only 'cause he does."   
  
Martha considered that, then nodded. "He's right, you do need to be less subtle."   
  
" _Thank_ you," Ben replied, a little exasperated. "Well?"  
  
"So now you're asking me for advice?" Simon asked, and laughed. "Mate, my only advice would be to get him drunk - not too much, mind - and snog him. See what happens."  
  
That was a terrible idea. "Martha?" he asked. "Please?"   
  
Martha sighed. "Stop it with the puppy eyes, Ben. I don't know how it works between two guys." She looked at him apologetically.  
  
"You've got more experience flirting with men than I do, though," he told her, insistent. "Please? You must know something." He was open to suggestions, even completely useless ones. Perhaps he could turn them into something slightly less useless.  
  
"You could have him over for dinner," Martha said, after thinking it over. "If you can cook. And if you can't, fake it."   
  
That could actually work. "That's a good idea," Ben told her. Why hadn't he thought of it himself?   
  
"Hang on, I was over at yours for dinner last week." Simon frowned down at Martha, just a little bit confused.  
  
She slapped him with her fan. "Yeah, for take-away pizza! Besides, you invited yourself, remember?" She shook her head at Ben, smiling. "Just turn up the romance a bit, dress up nice and you'll get your man."   
  
"Although you'll want to be careful with candles," Simon added. "One false move and you'll set fire to the curtains, and nobody wants that."   
  
Ben definitely didn't want that. He liked his curtains.

***

He'd invited Larry over to his house for dinner in a very casual manner. Or at least, a manner he hoped had been casual enough.   
  
"And you're cooking?" Larry had asked, just a little bit surprised and suspicious.  
  
"Yes," he'd replied.  
  
"And it's not take-away?"   
  
"Well, no." He had been a bit miffed by the implication he'd order take-away after promising a self-made meal.  
  
Larry had grinned. "I am definitely up for that!"  
  
***

"The dinner thing is definitely going to work," Ben told Simon, a little bit later, and just a little bit smug.  
  
Simon didn't seem too impressed. "Does he know it's a date-type thing?" he asked.  
  
"Well, no. Not technically, no," he replied. Why did it matter? The point was the dinner thing. That was meant to be the date.  
  
"It's not a date if Larry doesn't know it's a date," Simon informed him.   
  
Ben glared at him, then conceded defeat when he realised Simon had a point. "It's dinner at mine, isn't it?" he argued. "The fact that I didn't invite anyone else is bound to be a giveaway. Right?"  
  
Simon just looked at him.   
  
***

  
Ben wasn't nervous. Not at all. It was just the normal kind of worry when you had a friend over for dinner and you weren't sure if they even liked the thing you had made. Admittedly, he had asked Larry about allergies and preferences, but apart from Larry saying he didn't like celery much, Ben had nothing to go on.   
  
In the end, he decided that a regular salad and a fish pie would have to do. It'd be nice, normal, decent food. Nothing too fancy, nothing that indicated 'oh hi, can we do filthy things in my bedroom now please?' and nothing that indicated he'd made _too_ much of an effort.   
  
Plus, he had wine. Wine _always_ helped with seduction attempts.   
  
***

Larry seemed a little taken aback when he entered Ben's kitchen. "You actually set the table and everything," he said, eyeing Ben suspiciously.  
  
"Yes, well, you know, I like having dinner properly," Ben said, and felt just a bit awkward. "Anything to drink?"  
  
Larry settled for a water with his salad and fish pie, and although he eyed Ben suspiciously a few times during their meal, their conversation wasn't awkward. It was mostly focused on radio comedy versus television comedy, and Ben trying to explain why cricket wasn't as incomprehensible as most people thought.  
  
"Look, cricket is one of the few games with rules about tea breaks, so I don't see why people are complaining about it," he grumbled, and stabbed a piece of lettuce.  
  
"I think," Larry said, gesturing with his fork, "that you need to spruce it up a bit. Less running about, more tackling each other. Like in football."   
  
Ben just stared at him. "You think _cricket_ needs to be more like football?" How did he even begin to explain how wrong that entire concept even was?  
  
"It'd make it easier to understand," Larry simply told him, glancing at him innocently while eating some more of his fish pie.  
  
He was struck dumb for a moment. "Right." There was only one thing for it. "Right, I am explaining how cricket works to you, for the last time, and you're going to understand it."  
  
Larry shrugged. "I think that's highly unlikely, but you're welcome to try."

***

“And then the fielders try to limit the runs the opposite team can score by either catching the ball in flight,” Ben explained, and turned to Larry. “That's very important, or they just try to run him out.” He turned back to his whiteboard, which he had rested on his coffee table. Half of it was filled with notes to himself, from a reminder to make a dentist appointment to a half-finished groceries list. The other half was taken up by a drawing of a cricket field, in an attempt to school Larry on the rules of the game.   
  
“Right,” Larry said. He was sitting on Ben's sofa, clutching a mug of coffee. “So, let me guess, there's more to fielding than that?”   
  
Ben smiled. He was surprised Larry was still listening; he had expected the other man to get bored after half an hour, but here he was, still paying attention. “Yes. Now, there're many different fielding positions, and you can't exactly fill them all with your team, so an important strategical aspect is to pick your positions wisely.” He glanced at Larry, who nodded.  
  
“Makes sense.” He took a sip from his coffee.   
  
He turned back to his whiteboard, and started to scribble in the different positions. “Okay, so, there're a few modifiers, which describe the places of the players on the field. I'll start with those, as that'll make the rest of it easier. Don't worry, these modifiers are mostly self-explanatory.”   
  
Larry looked like he doubted it. “Go on.”   
  
“So, there's deep , which is obviously the furthest away from the batsman. It helps if you look at all the modifiers that way,” he added. “Then there's short, which is a bit closer, and silly, which is very close. Then there's square, and that's when -”  
  
“Hang on, silly?” Larry asked, and gave a disbelieving huff. “Come on.”  
  
This always happened when trying to explain cricket to novices. “It's a self-explanatory term, Larry, it's named that because of how dangerous it's supposed to be to stand there.”   
  
“Because of how you can be hit in the face by a cricket bat?”  
  
“Exactly,” Ben replied, pleased Larry had got that.   
  
He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Then I think I'd prefer a deep position,” he said finally.  
  
Ben looked at his drawing. “Oh, well, you're definitely safe from the bat there, but it's fine if your position is shorter – closer to the batsman,” he clarified.  
  
Larry shook his head. “Nope, I definitely prefer deep over short.” He grinned at Ben before sipping from his coffee.  
  
“Well, there's no arguing over that sort of preference, I suppose,” Ben said, and he turned when he heard Larry snigger dirtily. “Oh, very funny.” He couldn't help but smile himself. “I think that's enough cricket for enough night.” There was still the matter of flirting with Larry, after all, and it was about time he opened a bottle of wine.   
  
“Oh my God!” Larry gasped, clutching his chest. “Enough cricket? Who are you, and what have you done with the real Ben?”   
  
“Do you want me to talk cricket all night or not? We can watch a game if you like,” Ben offered. He smirked, knowing full well Larry would decline. “Those games can last for _hours_ on end. You could be here until tomorrow morning if we're lucky.” He rubbed his hands in pretend-glee. “I think there's a game on one of the sports channels...” He put down his whiteboard to grab the remote, but Larry grabbed it faster.   
  
“That's not necessary!” Larry clutched the remote to his chest. “As much as I admire your... stamina and that of the players,” he added. “I think I've had enough cricket for one evening.”   
  
Ben smiled indulgently. “You've got quite some stamina yourself; I expected you to beg me to shut up after five minutes.”   
  
“I'm made of sterner stuff,” Larry boasted, “I don't give in that easily!”   
  
“Really?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Larry nodded. “Hmm, I'd've been great as a spy,” he said. “I'd never reveal any state secrets, no matter how much they tried.” He took sip from his coffee. “Unless they tickle me, but I'm sure that's against the Geneva convention.” He eyed Ben and smiled.  
  
“I think I'll put my faith in James Bond, thanks all the same,” Ben replied. “You want some wine, or a beer?”   
  
“Beer's good,” Larry replied, finishing his coffee in one go.

***

There was a suitably brainless action film on some channel, one that was good for having on in the background while they chatted about nothing and occasionally commented on the unlikely events in the film.  
  
“A sane person,” Ben said, gesturing at the screen with his wineglass, “would've called the police by now, rather than try to do it by himself, and just explain that it was a case of mistaken identity.”   
  
“It'd make a boring film, wouldn't it?” Larry replied. “Honestly, Ben, we can't have people acting _reasonably_ and be _sensible_ about things. That way, it'd end with them sitting around and having tea somewhere rather than blowing things up!”   
  
Ben had to agree, and leaned a little closer to Larry. “True, true. Best to leave the proper action films to the Americans.”   
  
Suddenly, something blew up on screen, startling Larry. “Woah!” He stared at the screen for a while, and Ben noted he had shifted closer in his shock. “I have to say, those Americans do know how to make things explode.” He looked at Ben. “D'you think we can have some explosions as well?”  
  
Ben was too busy trying _not_ to note how close their faces were, or how he could kiss Larry if he just leaned in a little. “Hmm.”  
  
Larry sighed, and looked at the screen again. “Probably not with our budget,” he said, sulking a little. “Maybe we should try and raise some money.”   
  
“How?” Ben asked. “By asking your Twitter followers to donate?”   
  
Larry sat up. “Oh, good idea!” He grabbed his phone, and frowned as he tapped on the keyboard.  
  
“Larry, no! You can't exploit people like that.” He reached out to take the phone from Larry, mindful of his half-full glass. “It's wrong.”   
  
“I'm making use of my resources,” Larry replied, and leaned back, away from Ben.   
  
Ben just rolled his eyes, and reached over Larry to get to the phone. “Just give it here, I'm confiscating it. You're not doing any drunk-tweeting!”  
  
“But drunk Tweets are the best Tweets!” Larry argued, and he managed to keep the phone out of Ben's reach.   
  
“And friends don't let friends tweet whilst drunk,” Ben replied, still struggling to get the phone. “Come on, give it up, Larry.”   
  
“I already told you, I'm not giving in unless I'm being tickled,” Larry replied. “So there.”   
  
Ben glared at him, then had a sudden moment of realisation. He was pretty much lying on top of Larry. That was – that was highly unexpected, and he immediately sat back. “Fine,” he said, a little shaky. “Not my fault if people laugh at your drunk-tweeting ways.” He resolutely focused on watching the film again. “Look, another thing blew up.”  
  
Larry, still lying back on the sofa, just stared at him. “Oh yes, explosions.” He sat up again as well. “Would you just look at them.”

***

The next morning, Ben was woken up by his phone. After swearing, and cursing, and trying to hide under his pillow, he did eventually answer it.   
  
“What?” he barked.  
  
“Oooh,” came Simon's voice, amused. “Did I wake you? I am so terribly sorry.”  
  
Ben could hear the lack of sorry. “What is it?” he asked. “Why're you calling me?” He glared at his alarm clock. “It's too early for this.”  
  
“Did someone have a late night? Or should I say _two_ someones? Eh? Eh?” He laughed.  
  
“What are you even talking about?” Ben asked. He didn't need Simon laughing this early in the morning. Not after the awkward night with Larry. After that whole phone-debacle it hadn't been the same. Ben had sipped his wine, Larry had finished his beer and made a swift exit, with muttered goodbyes and see you soons. Why the hell had he climbed on top of Larry like that? Honestly. It was a good thing he didn't have any filming today.   
  
“About your big date with Lazza, you dingbat,” Simon told him. “No need to thank me.”   
  
“Thank you for what?” It couldn't be about the dinner, that had been Martha's idea.   
  
“Oh, nothing,” Simon told him smugly. “Nothing to do with me.”   
  
Ben was started to get a sinking feeling. “Simon,” he asked. “What did you do?”  
  
“It wasn't so much 'do' as 'say', really. I mean, _technically_.”  
  
“Simon!”   
  
Simon sighed. “All right, all right, relax. I only let it slip to Larry that you fancy him, is all.”   
  
Ben stared at his ceiling, utterly horrified. “You did what?” he squeaked.  
  
“Slightly hinted that you fancied him. Why? I thought you'd be grateful,” Simon replied.  
  
Ben knew about Simon and his 'slight hints'. “Simon, just so to be entirely fair...”   
  
“What?”  
  
“I am going to kill you with my cricket bat,” Ben told him. It was only fair to warn him.   
  
“Oh,” Simon replied, not sounding impressed. “Well, don't do it on my good carpet, mate. That's a bugger to get cleaned."

Ben hung up on him after that. There was clearly, obviously, no reasoning with him at all. He stared at his phone for a moment, trying to decide what to do.   
  
Damage control.   
  
Yes, damage control had to be done now. By calling Larry, and explaining that Simon had clearly gone round the bend, and wasn't that funny, haha, how about the weather, eh?  
  
He dialled Larry's number, hoping he wasn't disturbing him. Or waking him up, because it was still a bit on the early side. Maybe he should just hang up, call him back later and sort it then. He was about to do that, when Larry answered the phone.  
  
"Hey Ben," he said.  
  
"Hi!" Ben replied, surprised. "I was - just wanted to know if you'd got home all right." That was a caring friend thing, right? Right.  
  
Larry laughed. "Yeah, I did. You could've just texted me for that one."  
  
"Hmm, yes, I could've," Ben muttered. "Er, well, the thing is - the thing is, Simon just called me."  
  
"Did he?" Larry asked, just a little bit too knowingly. "Whatever for?"   
  
This was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. Nothing he had done on a stage or in front of a camera could compare to this. "Oh, he said he told you something. About me. And, y'know, I just want to tell you that that thing isn't true. Actually, it was a joke. One of those weird Simon jokes." He let out a horribly fake laugh.   
  
Larry was silent for a moment. "Well, Simon said that you, how did he put it again..."   
  
Ben didn't want to know how Simon had put it, but he listened anyway.  
  
"Want to throw me over your shoulder, carry me into your bedroom and do disgustingly sexy things to my body," Larry said. "Or was it sexy disgusting things?"  
  
"Hnng," Ben replied, because he wouldn't have _quite_ put it like that, but it was an appealing thought...  
  
"I'm not sure how you can make disgusting things sexy, but then you never know with Simon, do you?" Larry continued.  
  
"Hnng."   
  
"Ben? You all right?" he asked.  
  
Ben blinked. "Yes!" He coughed, his voice sounding odd even to his own ears. "Yes, I - I'm fine." He could himself blush, and was awfully glad he hadn't tried to have this conversation in person. "That's what Simon told you, then?"  
  
"Yeah. So, that was a joke, was it?" Larry asked. "Because he said a few other things as well, but he must've been joking about those too. Can't entirely remember, something about chocolate sauce and drizzling."

Ben's brain was melting. It was actually melting and slowly dribbling out his ear. That was the only explanation for what came out of his mouth. "Yesplease."   
  
"Because I - what was that? Did you just say _yes, please_?" Larry asked.  
  
His melted brain, or at least the bit that wasn't busy panicking wildly, noted that Larry didn't sound disgusted, or revolted. More...intrigued. "Maybe?"   
  
"Does that depend on who does the drizzling with the sauce?" Larry sounded far too casual for Ben's liking.   
  
He had to get his brain working properly again. "Larry," he managed. "What the hell are you doing?"   
  
"Flirting. This is how it works, right?" he replied. "With the innuendo and all that?"   
  
Ben wiped at his face in frustration. "It's not innuendo if you're talking about drizzling chocolate sauce on someone..."   
  
"Oh, fuck, am I doing it wrong, then?" Larry sounded genuinely worried. "This is why I write scripts, Ben! You get first drafts with those."   
  
He had to smile at that. "No, no, it's fine." For the time in a few months, he felt completely calm. "More than fine. We can do drizzling." He grinned.  
  
Larry laughed with relief. "Oh, good. Because I quite like the drizzling part."  
  
Ben made a note to get to a supermarket once this call was over. "In what way?"   
  
"Well, you remember when I called you 'mum candy'?" Larry asked, making Ben feel embarrassed all over again. "We should leave out the 'mum' bit."  
  
They definitely, definitely should. Ben grinned. "So, doing anything this afternoon? Because I've got nothing else-"   
  
Larry had already hung up on him.   
  
Ben just grinned down at his phone. Twitter-flirting had clearly been _his best idea ever._


End file.
